“All ready,” Doctor Romita, the project’s lead physician, said at last, his voice tinny over the small speaker. “Remember to relax and free your mind.”
Sybil shifted, releasing another long breath into the blackness of her personal world. Though she did not need his guidance, she accepted it anyway. She cleared her mind, and the process began.
Waves of emotion passed over her as everyone in the building came into maddening focus. Her ability allowed her to link to their minds, and they to hers. The connection wasn’t an infiltration or a reading; it was a true sharing of thought and memory. She felt their presences appear within the darkened space, and began to search their personalities without hesitation. She could sense no more than they would reveal, holding a mental conversation with each.
Sybil had never experienced her preternatural power quite like this – to be in contact with so many. Growing up in Louisiana, she had sometimes found even individuals overwhelming, their thoughts, fears, and desires imprinting upon her. It had taken a long time for her to carve a unique identity from the madness. Even now, it was difficult for her to distinguish her own habits from those that she had absorbed from others.
The machine continued, and with each passing moment, ten new personalities sprang forth. The task challenged her, and she concentrated, regarding each. It brought to mind her first experiences with her ability.
She was a much younger girl then, no more than thirteen years old, and her awareness of her preternatural talents had not yet kindled. The small bayou town in which she lived comprised her entire life, and the ladies at the house her adopted family. To many, it would not have been much, but Sybil lived and played within its simplicity. She loved it there, until she started hearing the voices.
The first came as a whisper, a small and subtle notion at the edge of her consciousness. She had been sleeping at the time, the pinprick of cognizance waking her from her slumber. It sounded like shouts through a thin wall, and she sat up in her bed. The dark room served as a blank canvas, slowly filling with another’s perceptions.
The adults were downstairs, and like most nights, many had gathered in the sitting room, their drunken voices mixing in revelry. Sybil could hear them as she always had. That was no surprise.
It was the others, a small group gathered in the house’s kitchen, that brushed her senses in a new and strange way. She had never heard anyone from there before, not in her room, but the conversation became impossibly clear. Sitting up in her bed, she listened to every word, and began to fear the meaning of this new linkage.
“What do you think we should do?”
“I don’t know,” Sybil’s Aunt Joan replied. “She’s getting older. He’ll want her to start soon.”
“But she’s just a girl.” Aunt Patti interjected. Sybil could feel the tug of concern in woman’s mind.
“Were you much older when you started?”
Patti thought back, shaking her head. There was a brief flash of a painful, jarring memory. “I don’t want her to go through that.”
“Neither do I,” Joan said, standing. She pushed the wooden chair under the table, the four legs grumbling against the tile floor. “I can stall Ricky a few months and buy us some time, but we have to get Sybil out of here. Any way we can, we have to get her out. She’s so sensitive, this life could kill her.”
Aunt Joan wobbled, sensing a presence. She looked around the kitchen. “Sybil?”
Sybil stiffened at hearing her name, realizing that she was the object of the conversation. Alarms went off in her mind, panic and confusion setting in and breaking the connection. She was again alone.
A cold sweat had oozed over her body, soaking the sheets. She had spent her entire life, as much as there was of it, in that small town at the edge of the bayou. The possibilities of leaving it had terrified her.
The same cold sweat covered her now, and if not for the heated water, she would have felt its clamminess. As if sensing she was ready, the machine’s scope widened even further. A hundred new minds beckoned her attention. She listened to them, her skills having come a long way since that first experience. She formed an impression of each, and moved on.
Imagining herself in a small room, she “interviewed” applicant after applicant at a dizzying speed. The visualization helped her to manage the chaos, and she processed the crowd as quickly as she could. In a fraction of a second, another identity blurred before her. She considered it, found nothing, and continued to the next. Had she been using her eyes, a single blink would have slowed her progress.
Despite her growing control over the chaos, the search remained difficult. Sybil did not know the specifics of a preternatural mind, and could not yet identify its peculiarities. Without knowing the exact aspects for which to search, she examined everyone, looking for some trait to catch her eye.
That is, until she found the first.
From amongst the crowd, a sparkle caught her attention. She focused on the individual, a man. He stood out from the others, and joining with his mind, she began to understand the essence of the preternatural divergence. It helped her to recognize the others, forming a template with which to search.
__________
“She’s got one,” Doctor Romita said. He looked at the readouts generated on the computer’s display.
Jack nodded. “Good. Let her keep going for another ten minutes, then shut it down. That will give you time to analyze the data.” Another blip appeared as he spoke. “Besides, she’s going to need her rest.”
Chapter Eight
Billy Moffet crawled through his dorm room window and removed his mask. He’d completed another successful heist. Pulling the curtains together, he blocked what little light the street lamp outside supplied, and lay his spoils on the desk. The familiar, radiant glow of the computer monitor cast shadows across the pile, highlighting the edges of jewelry and personal electronics.
Admiring his prizes, he grabbed the mouse and clicked open his email account. New images blinked on the screen, and emboldened subject lines popped up in his Inbox. As he stripped off the remainder of his costume and tossed it on the floor, a certain message at the top of the list caught his interest. He opened it.
With the first word, his heart skipped a beat.
Nightgaunt.
Someone knew who he was.
How was it possible? He looked at the sender’s address, but it wasn’t familiar. He copied and pasted the line into his favorite search engine, but no results appeared. He tried a few more tricks, and again, no results. Perhaps it was all a joke.
He read on.
The message instructed him to meet at an unfamiliar location not far away. It made no mention of his real name, no mention of blackmail either. There was little beyond the short message, a set of directions, and a time.
The proposed meeting was tomorrow morning, leaving Billy a few hours to explore the area beforehand. Unsure what to do, he decided to check the potential defenses and getaway routes now, before he needed them. If he did go to this meeting, he wanted to be ready. He pulled the costume back on, and slid the mask over his face. The curtains heaved with a blast of cold air, and he was gone.
Again in the darkness, he looked like a shadow, invisible in the moonlight. His costume was black, accentuated in areas by a midnight blue which continued to the outside of his serrated cape. His gloves, boots, and hood were colored a deep purple, matching the inside panel of the cape. All in all, he was an impressive figure, at least in his own mind.
Dressed as Nightgaunt, he crawled lizard-like up the library’s limestone facade. He could see most of the campus from its top, and it made a fine vantage point to scout the rest of his route. He positioned himself on the unlit edge, able to see the tree-enshrouded meeting area in the distance.
A small park rested at the heart of campus, little used at night. Even the streetlamps struggled to illuminate it. From here, the moonlight splashed a soft radiance across the canopy of its trees, but inside, all would be dark.
He swallowed hard. While comfortable in the darkness, it did not ensure his safety. His powers made a mugging unlikely, but some kind of altercation was not impossible. Despite his invisibility, he would need to be careful.
He leapt down, making his way across the university’s nightscape. He crawled along the sides of its buildings, sprung from tree to tree, and avoided the few students returning from the night’s parties. At last, he looked down over the proposed rendezvous point, straining his eyes to see. From what he could tell, the entire park was empty, save for him, hiding in the upper branches of an oak tree.
Landing on both feet, he walked around the site. Who would want to meet here, and why? It could to be nothing more than a practical joke, perhaps sent to everyone, address by address, intended as an elaborate trick to lure him out. The person to show tomorrow would be declaring his guilt.
He considered this, but the thought did little to ease his mind. The message could be real, and its possibility nagged him. If someone knew his identity, he wanted to know who that was.
He looked up into the trees. At night, his powers made it easy to hide, his shape blending into their skeletal forms against the indigo sky. Tomorrow however, the sun would rob him of such security.
He shook his head. What was he going to do?
From out of the tree-covered gloom, a green incandescence floated toward him. The orb of light stopped yards away, and as Billy’s eyes adjusted, he could see that it was set into a helmet. The dark shape of an armored man distinguished itself from the surrounding shadows. A striated, electronic voice broke the silence. “Nightgaunt. I have a proposition for you.”
Billy eyed the figure with suspicion. “Who are you?” He almost shouted. “How did you find me?”
The man did not move. “I am called the Aegis,” he said. His voice sounded metallic and inhuman. “I represent your potential employer.”
__________
David Mead walked into the bar around midnight, sporting a brown leather jacket, black T, and jeans. His hair was tousled in just the right way, and he wore the confident smile that had always worked well for him. It was a normal night out, and had he not known that time was ticking away on the General’s offer, all would have been well. He took his place on a stool up front, ordered a rum and coke, and scanned the bar-length mirror for tonight’s prize. He wanted to enjoy a little R & R, and if he was lucky, a little bit of company to take home tonight.
It was a classy place, or used to be anyway. The building was built at the turn of the previous century, and as his eyes swept over the room, he thought about it being one of those prohibition era gin joints. Ornate carvings still sprung from decades of cracked paint, a hardwood floor creaked underfoot, and even now, he wouldn’t be surprised to catch a glimpse of a bathtub as the bartender stepped out of the back room.
He watched the crowd shift and mingle, his view ebbing and flowing with their movements. He took notice of a few prospects, but no one of particular interest. His search was interrupted only by the arrival of his drink. He paid, and swallowed a large gulp of the cool cola. Resuming his hunt, the occupant of one of the rear booths caught his attention. He spun to get a better look at her, blurring the crowd and sloshing a portion of his drink.
The albino woman, Sibyl, huddled in the deepest corner of the room. She stood out among the usual patrons, but somehow, no one else seemed to notice her. His eyes focused upon her table.
She saw him, too, her violet eyes meeting his gaze from across the room. A small smile slipped from her lips. It was all the invitation he needed.
David returned her smile, and realized that somewhere inside himself, he had wanted her to be here. There was something timid, yet prescient, about the woman, as if she understood the world, but held herself away from it. He made his way toward her, stopping just outside the booth’s alcove. “Hello again,” he said, smiling. “Mind if I join you?”
She grinned wider, and as she spoke, her voice held a stilted sweetness. “That is why I am here.”
He chuckled, sliding into the seat opposite her. She possessed a pleasing quality that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. “I’m glad to hear it.”
She blushed. “I did not mean it quite like that.”
Propping his elbows on the table, he folded his hands. His face moved closer to hers. “And what did you mean?”
“I was speaking about the senator’s project. They asked you to join us.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. She spoke as if commenting about the weather.
David sat back, unsure how to respond. Whatever momentum the conversation had been gaining, this comment somehow killed it. He tensed, thoughts streaming through his mind. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”
She stared back, giving a small nod. “Yes.”
David’s jaw muscles clenched, and a sudden paranoia flooded him. He had known that she looked a bit alternative, but hadn’t thought her to be a preternatural. In fact, it was her intriguing presence that had attracted him to her. Faced with the truth however, his assumptions seemed silly in retrospect.
He sat unmoving, waiting for her to react.
“I am sorry,” Sybil continued, eyes widening. Despite his apparent shift in disposition, she leaned closer and put her hand over his. “I meant no insult. Please do not be angry with me.”
David squinted. “Why are you here?”
She folded and unfolded her hands, squirming in the seat. The same softness never left her eyes. “I would like to ask a favor of you.”
His instincts kept him on edge, but something in her tone quieted them. Her words were sincere and endearing, and he relaxed a little, not letting go of all of his suspicions. “What can I do for you, Miss Sybil?”
The corners of her mouth upturned into a slight smile, her body relaxing as well. She picked up her glass, filled with ice and nothing more. “You could start by refilling my drink.” A glint returned to her eyes.
David again let out a short chuckle, some of his stress escaping with it. He nodded, and returned to the bar. The escape allowed him time to think.
He had no reason to trust her. She was a preternatural working for a politician. David could think of few qualities more dubious. Her words seemed genuine enough however, and nothing about her demeanor aroused his suspicions. He found himself stuck, wondering about her motives. This was no chance encounter; somehow she had planned their meeting.
Ordering the drinks, he leaned against an empty portion of the bar, mulling it over. What was he going to do? He realized he no longer felt the apprehension that she had inspired within him. It had dribbled away, replaced with curiosity and annoyance. He turned back to her, regarding the lithe form that interested him. What was her purpose?
Her violet eyes again found his, and the crowd’s noise seemed to fade. “I wanted to ask you to accept the General’s offer.”
David stiffened. Her voice was clear, but she remained on the far side of the room, and her lips did not move. Questions ran rampant in his mind. “What?”
She continued watching him, and again her words sounded distinct despite the distance. “The General asked you to be a part of Senator Williams’ team. I am asking you to accept his offer.”
He shook his head, rubbing his temples. The drinks arrived, and he paid for them, struggling to unfold his wallet.
He heard her voice a third time. “Do not worry. This is my ability.”
He focused on one, clear question. “You can hear my thoughts?”
With his inquiry, the bar disappeared, its patrons vanishing like wisps of smoke. David found himself surrounded by darkness, and looking around, nothing but blackness met his eyes. For a moment, he feared that he had gone blind.
Then, she appeared, her form seeming spectral in the void. His eyes found her without hesitation, and he thought another question. “What is this?”
She smiled, and the radiance of it calmed him. “I have joined our minds,” she explained. “This is my ability.”
He walked ar
ound the empty space, not moving far from her. He tried to find the edges of the room, or at least some detail, but the environment around them was blank and seamless. He looked to her. “Where are we?”
“Physically, we are in the bar,” she explained in a soft, comforting tone. “I have created this psychic representation to help you understand. I do not read minds, I connect them.”
He paced, unbelieving. He ran a hand back through his sandy hair. “Why?”
Her forehead crinkled. “I do not understand.”
“Why would you do this? Why me?” The volume of his voice rose with each question. He paced faster, feeling trapped like a caged tiger. He stopped, inches from her, staring into her eyes. “What do you want from me?”
She looked away, blushing. “I am sorry if this angers you. I thought perhaps a demonstration would help you understand. My ability allows us to communicate telepathically. I am in your mind, and you are in mine.” She turned away, the redness not leaving her cheeks. “Perhaps it was a stupid idea.”
The illusion disappeared, and they were both back in the bar. People and noise again surrounded them. David forgot the drinks, and walked back toward her. He sat in the booth, maintaining control over his temper.
“Well?” he asked. “You never answered my question.”
Sybil shifted against the vinyl cushion. “I need your help, Lieutenant. I would like you to join the senator’s project. Without you, I fear we will fail.”
He laughed. It was a short, harsh noise. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“The project faces many challenges. Those involved will need someone to lead them, to help them survive. That someone is you.”
She scooted out of the booth and left him, walking to the bar. There, two drinks waited, forming small circles of condensation. She picked them up, crossed the room, and returned to her seat. A dainty hand slid a filled glass in front of him. “Please, stay with me, and I will explain further.”
He hesitated, but nodded, obliging her.
Preternaturals: A Superhero Thriller Page 5
